


blossomed the lovely stars

by bubbleteabunny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 20:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12140754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteabunny/pseuds/bubbleteabunny
Summary: It's the best $10 Peter's ever spent.





	blossomed the lovely stars

**Author's Note:**

> :)

The stars are beautiful against the ceiling of his bedroom.

You’re laying side by side on the carpeted floor, the lights switched off, and the blood has since rushed to your head long ago. The sky outside is dark, as it had been when you had first taken your spots on the ground, so you don’t know how much time has actually passed—how long the two of you have been laying there in silence, quickly forgetting the discomfort of being on the hard floor, focused only on make-believe balls of light manifesting themselves on the ceiling, on the walls, on your faces.

“One day, we should take a trip out of the city to go look at the real deal,” you suggest quietly.

Peter smiles but he doesn’t nod because he knows you won’t see it anyway. “Let’s do it.”

You devolve into silence yet again, but it’s comfortable. It’s always comfortable. The star projector which rests between you is humming lowly, a sound that might’ve been impossible to overhear had there been any other noises. Peter had found the thing at a garage sale earlier this week for $10. He bought it not expecting it to run that well, but was pleasantly surprised when he’d tested it later that night. This is the first chance you’ve gotten to enjoy it together, both of you having been too busy with homework, and Peter more specifically also being busy as Spiderman.

“You know, there’s actually a rotation feature on this…” Peter props himself up slightly so he can better see the buttons on the projector, and when he finds the right one, he presses it. The stars slowly begin to move, across every surface it can reach. It makes his room seem infinitely large and makes him believe for a moment that this here—you and him in his apartment several floors off the ground in the middle of Queens—is the center of the entire universe.

His back starts to ache so he sits up, drawing his legs up to his chest so he can rest his arms on his knees. You follow his lead not long after, stretching out your back before letting out a deep breath and relaxing, wrapping your arms around your knees as well. Without really thinking about it, you stretch a hand out, as though to reach up and grab the stars which encircle you. They move slowly across your hand and the length of your arm, and you study the projections of light as you do, smiling a little to yourself.

“I used to always wish for a star when I was younger,” you begin, and at this, Peter looks over at you. “One to have for myself and give a name the way scientists do.”

Peter smiles. “What would you have named it?”

You don’t answer right away, and he can tell you’re blushing. You don’t meet his eyes when you speak up. “Six-year-old me seemed transfixed on the name Martha.”

Peter laughs. “A star named Martha… It’s not _so_ bad.”

You look over at him then, brow raised as if to say _stop lying_ , but you’re still smiling widely, betraying your amusement. “Ah yes. Sirius, Orion, the Pleiades… and Martha.” This sets the two of you off on another bout of laughter.

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s not that great,” Peter manages to say between his snickers. When he’s finally calmed down enough, he follows up with another question. “Do you still wish for a star of your own?”

You take a second to consider the query, and then you smile as you lay back down. “Why wish for a star when I have the whole galaxy right here?”

Peter smiles softly as he follows your gaze, staring up at the expanse of lights still rotating steadily. The longer he watches, the more he gets the sensation that he’s floating, through an endless stretch, to no destination in particular, going nowhere except _on._ And in a room so small, life seems all at once to be larger than ever. 

He glances back at you, at the stars on your skin, and he wants to reach out, connect them with the tip of his finger, softly and slowly, as if to make constellations. He wants to name them, murmur them to you in the silence because you are a galaxy all on your own and he wonders if you know this. His dreams rest on the gentle curl of your lashes, his ambitions on the cupid’s bow of your lips. There are stars on your skin and in your eyes and passing through your heart, and he thinks to himself that drifting forever through the limitless universe which has found a home in your soul wouldn’t be so bad at all.


End file.
